


Second Skin

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Deep Throating, Enemies With Benefits, Guilt, Love/Hate, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Blake and Travis need each other.
Relationships: Roj Blake/Travis
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Second Skin

“I'll kill you after this, Blake.”

Blake shuts the door behind himself, entering with an almost parodic sort of casualness. “I know,” he says breezily, “you have said. Should we get on with it?”

Travis doesn't exactly give him much response, just a brisk, curt nod, still the soldier even now. Blake invites himself into Travis' personal space, pushing him up against the wall. They do not bother with pretences anymore, fighting, guns, even bites and bruises. Better save that for when they really do want to kill each other.

They've never kissed. Blake doesn't know if Travis would know how – he can't imagine him ever bothering. Instead, he leans in and licks along the crook of his neck, the taste of sweat and leather on his tongue stiffening his cock like Pavlov's bell. Travis grunts, knee colliding with Blake's inner thigh. “Hurry up.”

Blake slides onto his knees easily. That isn't to say he doesn't still feel guilty – he is disgusted with himself, that _this_ is the only way he can seem to enjoy sex anymore, debasing himself for a man who wants him dead, who represents everything he stands against. He's sure the Federation and their meddling with his brain must be responsible, somehow, and Blake keeps trying to tell himself he will stop. It's a pointless risk as much as it is a moral failure. But he keeps coming back.

He noses beneath the bulge of Travis' tight leather, smelling him through the fabric, a scent hot and striking. His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he forces down the metal zip. Travis' Federation uniform clings to him like a second skin, and so Blake never bothers to remove more than is strictly speaking necessary, but he can feel Travis' body rigid as his ideology underneath, not like his own soft flesh.

Travis moans as Blake takes him into his mouth hungrily, nails scratching hard enough to leave blood beneath Blake's tight curls. “That's it, Blake, that's it, _yes_.” His voice is still dark, low, almost evil, but he sounds tense enough to break.

Blake feels half-broken himself, too greedy to wait and tease, kneading himself through his loose cotton trousers and swallowing like a man starved. It is the horror of it, really, the thought of sucking cock like the cheapest of whores for the man who slaughtered his followers, it gets him off like nothing else – _that_ is a thought the Federation implanted in him too, it must be, but he cannot bring himself to fight it, not right now.

“ _Blake!_ ” Travis is gasping while Blake is choking on him, eyes and nose running, cock leaving an ugly stain between his legs. He keeps his eyes closed and relishes the taste, losing himself in his senses. He has no image here, no reputation to uphold, no revolution to embody. The thought almost makes him laugh. Of course. Who could he turn to for this but the one person who has always seen the worst in him?

He is gagging on Travis' cock, almost making himself vomit, but it's still not _enough_ , so Blake reaches around and squeezes his arse as hard as he can, his own blunt nails just as vicious. He pulls Travis down until every millimetre of his length is buried between his lips, balls hot and pulsing against his skin, a tantalising promise yet to be kept. Blake would be moaning in bliss if he weren't suffocating himself, as Travis' muscled thighs tremble around his neck.

Eventually his physiology does get the better of his lust, and Blake does have to pull off, kissing and licking the pre-come from Travis' cockhead while he recovers. Travis shudders, still on the brink but not so out of control when he's not being swallowed like an evening meal. Blake wonders, idly, if it makes it easy for Travis that he is the one on his knees; if he can convince himself that he is only doing this to humiliate and subjugate his enemy, if he knows he can shoot Blake in the head at any moment.

Of course, that raises the question of why he _doesn't_.

Blake licks Travis clean to the best of his abilities, his nemesis thrusting toward him, all but whimpering, as Blake's hot breath gusts across every part of his groin. Suddenly Blake is visited by an image, dark and unbidden, and he knows it will not leave him until it is brought to life. “Turn around,” he murmurs, throat sore and voice so hoarse he no longer sounds like himself.

He is surprised Travis actually obeys him. You would think a trained soldier would know better than to turn his back on an enemy. Nonetheless, Travis braces himself against the wall, presenting that arse that is usually so perfectly sculpted by Federation leathers for Blake's appreciation.

Travis gasps when Blake dives his tongue between those toned cheeks, seeking out a taste he hasn't had before. “ _Blake_.” Travis immediately starts rocking back onto his tongue, as needy and as desperate as Blake was sucking his cock. As he shoves his tongue in as far as it will go Blake finds that taste strange, murky, not entirely pleasant, but familiar, like he was made to lick Travis in the arse.

He wonders how Travis imagines this, if he thinks Blake is degrading him by penetrating him. Or he thinks he is degrading Blake by having him kiss his arsehole. Both are probably true.

Blake can feel it when Travis starts to come, riding his face like he's on heat. Blake dives in deep, drinking up the foulness of it all, a terrible satisfaction in his belly. When he opens his eyes he can see Travis' cum splashing against the wall, making a mess.

While he's still recovering Blake hits the button on his teleport bracelet, just in case Travis feels like carrying out his threat this time. He finds himself alone in the teleport bay, and his hand goes straight to his cock, licking his lips for an evil taste.

It takes not two strokes before he's coming with a vengeance, crying out loud enough he might wake the whole ship. The self-disgust is there, of course, it always is, but Blake does not fool himself that he's going to stop.

He and Travis could never stop. There is no-one else who can give this to them but one another. And so until they stop needing this, they need each other.


End file.
